Honor Before Blood
by Panthers79
Summary: Jaime Lannister is horrified by the gruesome murders of the Targaryen children, disillusioned he forsakes his family and travels North to perserve his honor. Rated M for safety's sake
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story I have ever posted, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback you can provide. This was inspired by a fanfic I read over on . It is called The Lion of the North and it was written by an amazing author named Atri. My version will have considerable differences, but much of the early story will be similar. So without further ado I give you: Honor Before Blood.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's.**

Chapter 1: Jaime I

Jaime Lannister burst through the door to his father's solar, sword in hand and scowl on his face.

"Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance don't you my boy, now put that sword away unless you intend to use it." Tywin responded calmly as if he had expected his son's bold entrance.

"Is it true?" Jaime snarled as he sheathed his sword. He hadn't truly intended to use it on his father, at least not yet.

"Is what true? You must be more specific." He his father asked, never looking up from the paper that currently held most of his attention.

"Did you have Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys killed?" Jaime spoke in cold, measured tones, his burning hot fury turning into icy cold rage.

His success at preventing the first attempt, the arrival of the Stark forces, and Lord Eddard's sense of honor, it was all in vain in the end. Rhaenys had been stabbed half a hundred times by Amory Lorch, while Gregor Clegane had dashed Aegon's head on the wall, after which he raped and killed Elia Martell with the brains of her son still on his hands. And his father, the bastard, didn't even try to look guilty or remorseful.

"You mean: did I have the good sense to correct your foolish mistake? Yes, I did, and you should be thankful for King Robert will wed your sister and release you of your vows. You shall be my heir, just as you always should have been. Rejoice boy, for you will be a hero, Lord, and brother to the Queen!"

Tywin seemed incredibly pleased with himself, and, perhaps for the first time, Jaime felt disgust at his father's actions. He ordered the deaths of young, innocent children, an act which would have any decent man sick with guilt and shame. Jaime had known Tywin was a hard man, yet this was beyond even the most vile of things.

"How could you?! Aegon was just a babe! Rhaenys just a young girl! They were no threat!"

"They were not a threat yet but it is better to squash the problem now than allow it to grow, remember that."

"You disgust me." Jaime spoke, his voice cold and hard.

"You have much to learn about what it means to rule." Tywin snorted, "As Lord Lannister it is my duty to do what is best for our house. We have gained much in this war and lost little. Someday, you must make these decisions."

Those words gave Jaime pause. He tried to imagine himself mercilessly ordering the deaths of innocent children. The thought sickened him. He wondered if this is what he would become. An unfeeling monster. Just like his father? He had killed the Mad King to save lives, to save King's Landing. Would he have in honor left after five, ten years as his father's heir? He knew then what he had to do, and, summoning all his courage, he spoke just one word.

"No."

"...no?" Tywin's voice had a dangerous undertone.

"No, I will not go to Casterly Rock. No, I will not be your heir. No, I will not become an unfeeling monster."

Jaime turned to the door and prepared to leave, when his father's voice rang out behind him.

"I have forgiven your mistake of trying to save the Targaryen children. It was the folly of youth. But, should you leave now, there will be no turning back. You will be a Lannister no longer, with no claim to the Rock. "

Jaime hesitated for only a moment before he threw open the door and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**I would like to thank both elaine451 and Tom2011 for leaving their opinions on this story. I urge any of you that have any thoughts on the story, please leave a review so I can attempt to make this story worthy of your support. I would also like to assure readers that grammatical errors in a character's speech are generally intended.**

 **Edit: Line breaks are now added in appropriate places.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's**

Chapter 2: Rickard I

The winesink was bustling with the arrival of the armies of both Stark and Lannister. Of course this meant that the smell of piss, shit, and blood was overwhelming, and Rickard wondered, not for the first time, how long it would be before Lord Stark decided to take his forces home.

Home. It had been a year since he had left his family's home to ride south with Lord Stark's forces. He had told them he was leaving for the silver he would receive and that was true, at least partly. No, the main reason he had left was for the adventure; he had grown tired of hunting for food and only finding just enough scrape by. But now, now he longed to return to those simple times, when arrows killed rabbits and axes chopped trees. He tried to picture his family as he had last seen them. His father, Torrhen, with his shoulder length hair the color of dirt and his moss green eyes. His face was sharp as a knife, and, though his body was as large as an aurochs, he was thin from lack of meals. His mother, Alys, whose hair shone like spun gold and her eyes were the color of the sky. She was a small woman made smaller by the lack of food. Wyla, his sweet,young sister, with the hair and eyes of their father, but with their mother's small frame. And lastly Jon, his older brother, again possessing their father's hair and eyes, yet having the lithe frame of their mother. Rickard did not follow the pattern of his siblings, instead of his father's hair and eyes, his hair was black as night and his eyes an odd grey. After joining Lord Stark's host and eating better than he ever had, his frame filled out to a size comparable to his father's. He often thought it queer that his siblings could look so much alike and he look so different.

"Well, there ya are. I been looking for you for a bloody long time, the others was starting to worry." a booming voice startled Rickard out of his thoughts.

"I've been here drinking Theron, you of all men should respect that." Theron laughed, his large frame shaking as he did.

Theron was one of the largest men Rickard had ever seen, only slightly smaller than Greatjon Umber from what he could tell. And Rickard's remark about his drinking was not far of the mark, for Theron, who was a mountain clansman, could, and would, drink more ale than the rest of the Stark host taken together.

"Ya say ya was drinkin', more like broodin' again if I knows anything about ya."

"I don't brood."

"Whatever ya say kid. Hey, tell me why does a boy o' five and ten join an army marchin' south to fight?"

"I told you before."

"I was drunk before."

"You're drunk now."

"Does it matter?"

"No, I guess not. I joined for the same reason you did. They paid."

"Fair 'nough. Now come on, them other two is waiting."

The other two were Byrron and Kean, blonde haired, brown eyed brothers who were also members of the Stark host. They were both slim as a willow and quick as a shadow cat. They were almost impossible to tell apart, save for a scar across Kean's jaw.

"I see you're still wearing that axe, and the bow and quiver too. You'd think the dragons was gonna come out of hiding and kill us all." Byrron spoke first, nodding his blonde head at both of them as they arrived.

The axe and bow he referred to were the two things that had gotten him through the war. The bow was made from yew and shot well. It was strange for someone of the infantry to carry a bow, but ever since it saved his life at the Battle of the Bells he hadn't gone into a fight without it. The axe was a sturdy weapon that he had pulled from the hands of a dead loyalist at the Trident after the handle of his own axe had shattered.

"I bet he's carrying his dagger too. Aren't you Rickard?" Kean asked smiling

"Of course I am."

Rickard's dagger was perhaps his most prized possession. It was not ornate, with only a simple leather wrapped handle and a plain steel blade and only a single identifying feature the word Drayke was engraved in small letters where the blade met the hilt, but it was the last thing his father had given him before he left for Lord Wull's camp. The dagger had been handed down through his family since before the Starks had brought the Boltons to heel. It had saved his ancestor's life in that war, and it had saved another during the Dance of Dragons. His father had hoped that perhaps it would save Rickard's as well, and it had.

"I'm surprised he didn't bring his shield." Kean quipped.

"I'd rather carry my weapons than leave them behind to be stolen. Besides in this shit heap, you might need them." Rickard answered throwing a look at one of the many street rats that occupied the constantly busy streets.

"At least we won't be here much longer. Least that's what I heard." Theron said, obviously sharing Rickard's thoughts on the place.

"How come?" Byrron asked, sounding almost disappointed.

While at the same time Kean gave a loud shout of "Thank the gods!"

"Something about a fight between Lord Stark and the King." Theron answered.

Rickard could not help but smile at that, soon he would be home. He cared little for why he got to leave, so long as he could. Lord Stark could fight with the King until the Others took them both if it meant he could finally go home.

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Rickard was fighting a strong urge to kill Theron. Three fucking hours worth of searching and he still hadn't found the bastard. To make matters worse Lord Pain-in-the-Ass, some second son of a second son of House Harclay, who had led the section of infantry that they had both been grouped into, was demanding Rickard find him before they left in two hours or lose some of his pay. He had checked every winesink and whorehouse they had visited during their stay in King's Landing. Just as he was ready to give up and hope that Theron found his way back to the army on his own, Rodrik saw him exit a woodcrafter's shop up the road.

"There you are I've been looking bloody everywhere for you. Why were you in a woodcrafter's shop?"

"I had to buy something for my sister."

"From a woodcrafter's shop?"

"Well, I couldn't afford nothin' too elegant, so I just had him carve a piece of oak in the shape of a heart. How's it look?" Theron held up the wooden heart for Rickard to see.

The heart seemed rough, and misshapen, with strange bumps and curves on the edges. It had a hole through it so it could be worn as a necklace, but it seemed to be made at an angle, so that it was turned on the leather thong he had run through it. You could easily tell it was not done by the most skilled craftsman in King's Landing, but it was thoughtful none the less.

"I'm sure she'll love it. Now hurry we've got to get back to the camp or we'll be left."

"Wait, where leaving?"

"Yes, now hurry."

They rushed back to the camp that had been set up outside the city. Once they arrived they put on took what few belongings they had and fell into their positions in formation for the long march back home.

"I was beginning to worry about you two. Did you get lost or something?" Kean greeted them when they fell into formation.

"No, we didn't get lost, but Theron decided to bugger off and get his sister a bloody necklace. And since I'm always with him, Lord Pain-in-the-Ass, made me search the entire bloody city for him," Rickard finished his tirade and looked around before he noticed a very peculiar absence.

"Where's Byrron?"

"He's staying here. Says there's more opportunities here than back home."

"He's choosing to live in this shit hole? He's crazy."

"I coulda' told ya' that." Theron spoke up.

"Tell me about it. Once, when we were boys-." Kean started.

"Hey guys, I hate to interrupt, but isn't that the Kingslayer?" Rickard pointed to a man with hair like spun gold, wearing gray plate and no cloak.

"By the gods! It is!" Kean's voice was an excited whisper, all thoughts of childhood mischief with his brother gone.

The man who killed Aerys was coming north with them. Well, it seemed this would be a very peculiar time for the North.


	3. Chapter 3

**I would personally like to thank all of the people who have read, favorited, followed, and/or reviewed this story. Now there are some things I would like to clear up before I forget.**

 **Length: The chapters of this story will, starting last chapter, always be 1000 words more or less. This Story will be separated into at least 3 acts, with an undetermined number of chapters each. The story might pass 3 acts as nothing is final until uploaded.**

 **Schedule: I will always try to have stories uploaded on Sundays, but if I am unable then expect them Tuesday.**

 **Source Material: The source material for this story includes, but is not limited to: The G.R.R.M Books, The HBO show (rarely), Telltale's _Game of Thrones,_ the _Game of Thrones_ RPG (sparingly), and most importantly Atri's Lion of The North on Archive of Our Own. **

**OC's: I will only use an OC if a point in the story demands one, as a few points do. I try my best to make all OC's fit naturally in the story.**

 **Now that that's over on to the story.**

 **Edit: Line breaks are now added in appropriate places.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S and am too poor to bother suing anyway.**

Chapter 3: Jaime II

The sound of steel clashing together echoed throughout the training yard. Jaime half- watched as his childhood friend Addam Marbrand spared against his brother Eamon. His mind was still occupied by the confrontation he'd had with his father the previous day, as well as some tales he had heard about the King and Lord Stark. He was mulling over these particular thoughts when a voice roused him from them.

"Ser Jaime." Jaime turned to see Lord Stark standing to his side.

"Lord Stark, enjoying the spar?" Jaime wondered why Lord Stark had come to the training yard, none of his men were sparing.

"If I may, I wish to speak with you Ser Jaime." Jaime searched his memory for a reason for which Lord Stark would wish to speak with him, but he could think of none.

"Of course, Lord Stark."

"Good, come let us go to my solar, I believe this is a discussion best held in private."

As Jaime followed Lord Stark, he thought back to the rumors he had heard of his confrontation with the King. Lord Stark, newly arrived with his sister's bones, had entered the throne room and challenged King Robert's execution of the Targaryen children. Some said that swords had been drawn and only the timely intervention of Lord Arryn had saved blood from being spilled.

"I hear you stopped your father's first attempt to kill the Targaryen children?" Lord Eddard spoke when they arrived at his solar.

"Aye, I killed those bloody half-rate sellswords, fat lot of good it did." Jaime snorted.

"Whether it was completely successful or not it was the honorable thing to do. I also hear that you would have saved them a second time had you not been in a deep sleep?"

"You're heard truthfully, my father, no doubt, insured that I would not make another 'youthful mistake'." Jaime sat out the last words as if they were spoiled wine.

"Humph," Lord Stark's brow creased as he mulled over the words of the former heir to Casterly Rock.

"You believe that Tywin would have had you, the man who he would have for his heir, poisoned? It is said you had stayed awake for three days guarding the royal family."

"I know my father Lord Stark, he would find someone to flavor my wine with milk of the poppy."

"Do you have proof that he did such?"

"No, I've no proof that he did such Lord Stark." Jaime said, silently adding, ' _But I have no doubt he did.'_

"Then let us continue, I have one last question for you Ser Jaime. Is it true that when you killed Aerys, he planned to burn down the city?"

"He told his buggering pet pyromancer: Burn them all, let the Usurper reign over a city of ashes.' I slew Rossart then before he could relay the order to the other flame crazed monsters. Then I advanced on Aerys, who began to rave about betrayals, Mine, my Father's, Queen Rhaella's, Prince Rhaegar's and hundreds more. I opened his throat to save every man, woman, and child who lives here."

"That answers my concerns Ser Jaime. My host is leaving for the North tomorrow. I would invite you to come with us." Jaime sat in stunned silence before he understood what Lord Stark was offering.

"So you've heard about my falling out with my father. I don't need your pity, Lord Stark."

"It is not pity. You are a good man Ser Jaime, an honorable man, perhaps the only honorable Lannister. The North needs men like you Ser Jaime. And you might even find it to your liking. It's not what you're used to, but it isn't a viper's pit like the South. The men there are honorable and true."

"I will think on it Lord Stark. Thank you."

And think he did, for a whole night and found no sleep. The North. He had never thought of going north, but what was left for him in the South. He had been stripped of the white cloak. Cersei was lost to him. Casterly Rock was equally lost to him. Tyrion would be fine without him, and he might even come later on. But going north. The North was unlike everything else he had seen. Yet it seemed to be the only way he could hold onto his honor and not have it stripped away as he feared he would if he remained here.

Decision made, he joined with the Stark host the next morning. He was clad in simple grey plate and no cloak, having left his golden armor and white cloak behind.

"Where is your white cloak, Lion?" Greatjon Umber asked in his booming voice.

"I left it behind."

"Ha! White's not your color anyway. You're too pretty as it is, why I could mistake you for a woman."

"Then you must be in desperate need of a woman's touch. What, do all the whores run at the sight of your ugliness?"

"Only when they see I am too much for them, Lion. Here, take this before you freeze to death." The Greatjon tossed him a warm grey cloak lined with reddish fur. "We wouldn't want to deny the North your prettiness."

"What kind of fur is this?" Jaime had never seen an animal with a pelt such as this.

"A mountain lion." Lord Eddard's lips curled into an almost smile. "The Lion of the North."

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The Northerners loved to talk. Jaime had used the journey to Riverrun to try to meet as many of the Northern lords as he could. He had started with Greatjon Umber, who he had become fast friends with. Following that he had talked with both Galbart and Robett Glover . He had spoken with Jeor Mormont and Hugo Wull, and others still. He had learned the location Last Hearth, the types of trees in the Wolfswood, the history of Bear Island, and even the best places for grazing sheep in the northern mountains. But he also learned more important things about them. They loved the Starks, They had memories as long as time, and they treasured honor.

Honor. Ned Stark had called him an honorable, which certainly high praise from that man, but he felt as if every scrap of honor he had ever possessed had fled him in King's Landing. He had sat and watched as honorable men were fed to wildfire for the Mad King's enjoyment, he'd stood guard outside the door to Aerys's chambers as he raped his sister-wife, and then he'd broken his vows as a member of the Kingsguard. But never again.

He was going to prove Lord Stark right, he would uphold honor above all else now. He had, and would continue to, put honor before even his own blood. He would always put his honor first despite the consequences. He would never stoop to the level of his father. He would never put aside his honor for his own gain. He would show the world that he did not need to dirty his honor to be remembered. He would hold his head high and proclaim to the world that he could be both honorable and powerful.

 _'One day, father, people will remember me as a true man, who worked for what he has. I will never sacrifice my principles for anyone, not even family. They will remember me, father, for I will put honor before blood.`_


	4. Chapter 4

**I am thankful for the support this story has received. I will go ahead and state that the first part of this chapter and the next one are VERY similar to Atri's story, but after that chapters will start to change significantly. From then on chapters will only be similar to Atri's when certain plot points are needed for the story. Two of those I already have in mind. Now that I've wasted everyone's time let's start chapter 4**

 **Edit: Line breaks are now added in appropriate places.**

 **Edit 2: The marriage between Tywin and Ashara Dayne has been changed. Tywin now marries Melesa Crakehall. I would like to thank you all for helping pull my head out of my behind on that one.** **THIS IS THE ONLY CHANGE.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S.**

Chapter 4: Tywin I

"You can go!" The words were spoken with an icy rage that would send trembles through even the mightiest king, let alone the servant at which they were directed. The servant left the room as quickly as possible without sprinting, leaving Lord Tywin to scowl at only air. Tywin poured himself another cup of Dornish Red from the pitcher the servant had delivered, all the while thinking of his young, foolish son. Jaime had left King's Landing, heading north with Eddard Stark's host. Tywin had known the boy was angry, but he thought time and threat of losing Casterly Rock would be enough to convince him to rethink his decision. Lord Tywin had been prepared for Jaime to come crawling back, begging to not be thrown out of the family. He would have made a show of hesitation before accepting, then he would have had his son married off as soon as possible to produce an son that he could mold into a fitting heir for Casterly Rock.

But now was not the time to think of what might have been. No, now he must move forward, and if Jaime wasn't with him he was against him. That meant that he must be removed from the line of succession. But who would succeed him? A second son of Robert and Cersei mayhaps? Yes,that would do nicely. With his course of action decided Tywin stood and began to ready himself to speak to the King.

The young Baratheon was drinking and, by the looks of him, he had been for some time. Robert Baratheon was loud and boisterous, quick to anger, and absolutely incapable of playing the Game. He was the type of man Tywin despised, yet at times, such as this one, he thanked the gods for it.

"Lord Tywin!" The King roared, banging his cup on the table. "Come celebrate with us. Dragonspawn no more!"

"No more!" The young men that surrounded Robert cried, each and every one looking as drunk as the King.

"With pleasure, Your Grace."

Tywin sat and listened to Robert's retelling of his rebellion and his despondent lament about Lyanna Stark, all the while making sure everyone forgot just how late the Lannisters had joined the war. Slowly, and drinking little, he lead the discussion to the topic he had come to talk about.

"Where is your son Lord Tywin, where is the hero that stuck a sword through the Mad King's belly?"

Tywin affected a sad look and sighed heavily.

"Jaime..." He paused for effect. "It pains me to say this, Your Grace, but my son is traveling north in the company of Lord Stark."

"Ned..." Good, it seemed the rift between the foster brothers was still there, he would have to see about widening it in the future.

"Yes, it seems my son foolishly does not see the necessity of ridding Westeros of all Targaryens. Indeed, he has sided with Lord Stark on the matter. He is not the same man he was before entering the Kingsguard. I fear he may have even become a loyalist. If even a father's loving word does not sway him...I hesitate to say this Your Grace, but if he were to inherit Casterly Rock..." He paused waiting for the implications to sink in.

"By the gods!" Robert roared, slamming his cup down on the table again. "This can not happen. But how to prevent it?" He asked searching Tywin's face for an answer

Yes, a dire situation for House Lannister. I cannot simply disinherit him, he is seen as a hero by the realm, but mayhaps.."

"What?!"

"Mayhaps we can use his dismissal from the Kingsguard, which is irregular in itself. Certainly, he broke his vows, killing Aerys, and must be punished for that, a king is a king, mad or not, but he is a hero, so the punishment cannot be too harsh. Your Grace, as punishment, remove his right to inherit Casterly Rock and let him go with permission to establish a new house, if that is his wish. Let the North have him, if they want him. A Lannister in name only, but with no claim to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands."

The young Baratheon was silent for a time. Tywin waited as he thought over the proposal, knowing that he would eventually come to the conclusion that this was the most sensible option. Finally the King nodded.

"Let it be so!" Robert grinned pleased with the solution Tywin had given him. "But now you'll need a heir. Mayhaps your second son, Tyrion?"

"Tyrion..." Tywin tried to conceal his displeasure. "He is...unsuited to inherit. He mostly takes after his brother in thought." 'But nothing else,' he added silently.

"Then it seems to me that you need a wench of good breeding to spit out some young lions." The King smiled widely before drinking the rest of his wine in a single go.

Some time later Tywin excused himself. Everything had gone according to plan. Now he just had to remind the King the next day when, if, he was sober. Also, amazingly, the oaf had given him a good idea. He could not depend on Cersei to give him an heir. No, his children had already proven themselves to be failures. A new marriage was needed. But should he marry the daughter of one of his bannermen, or should he look elsewhere to form an alliance with some other noble house? One thing was certain, he would have to choose his new bride carefully. He would not tolerate another failure.

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Tywin carefully considered the letter in his hands.

' _Yes, This will do nicely indeed.'_ He thought, showing the barest hint, of a smile. It was a terrible thing to behold.

' _Lord Tywin,'_ The letter read.

' _You honor my house with your request. I agree with the terms presented in your letter, as does my sister. We shall leave for Casterly Rock in two weeks time, so that there will be ample time for yourself and Melesa to become acquainted before the wedding._

 _Your future goodbrother and loyal vassal,_

 _Roland Crakehall'_

The Crakehalls had not been the first family he had considered when looking for a wife, but it seemed the major houses had a lack of eligible daughters. That said, the Crakehalls were a powerful house in the Westerlands, and a marriage into their house would strengthen his rule even more. It was also known that Crakehalls were robust, as such any son he might have with Melesa Crakehall would hopeful inherit the size and strength of his mother's kin. This would be a step towards not being failure if it could hold true.

The only thing that mattered to Tywin was that she would not be a failure, nor would she beget failures. Tywin had too many failures as it was, he would not suffer another. Speaking of not suffering failures…

Tywin's attention shifted from the letter he had just read to another that currently occupied his desk. This one bore news that was arguably better than the one before it.

' _Lord Lannister,_

 _I have carefully considered your offer, and after much deliberation I have decided to accept. The items you have requested are being delivered as you read this. Once the ship that is carrying the goods arrives in King's Landing, I expect my full payment of twenty and two thousand dragons._

 _Esteemed Magister of Pentos,_

 _Illyrio Mopatis_

' _Good,'_ Tywin Thought. ' _The fat cheesemonger had agreed to his deal.'_

He pitied his fool brother Gerion now. Even if he was successful, which was not likely, it would all be in vain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy Easter!**

 **I'm going to keep this short and sweet, because I am give out from Easter suppers.**

 **The first part chapter is similar to its counterpart in Atri's story but soon after this the changes will become more and more noticeable, especially in three chapters.**

 **And, of course I thank you all for your support and feedback.**

 **Edit: Line breaks are now added in appropriate places.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S and am too poor to bother suing anyway.**

Chapter 5: Eddard I

Ned's feet moved of their own accord as his mind drifted back through the events leading up to his return to Riverrun. The Battle of the Bells, the Trident, the Tower of Joy, his return to King's Landing, and Robert's words.

 _Dragonspawn_. Innocent children were murdered on his orders and his defense was that they were dragonspawn. Ned stared down at the bundle in his arms that was his nephew. _Dragonspawn_. The word echoed throughout his mind. At night, when he closed his eyes to sleep he saw Aegon and Rhaenys covered in blood and wrapped in Lannister crimson, and, on the worst nights, he could see Jon's body as well. The thought alone made him sick with revulsion. Ned had no doubt that despite who Jon's mother was, or perhaps especially because of who she was, Robert would have him slaughtered just like the others. Robert, who was as close to Ned as his brothers, he had changed, changed into something so vile as to murder innocent children. Or, mayhaps, Robert had always been this way and Ned had just chosen not to see it. Either way he had lost a friend, something that was becoming all too common as of late.

His return to Riverrun had been warm at first but when it became known that he had returned with Jon, who was undeniably a Stark, it became cold quickly. His wife's door had been shut to him tonight and was like to be that way for many more nights to come. Even now, as they prepared to leave the next day, Riverrun felt like an enemy camp, and his goodfather, Lord Hoster Tully, acted as if they had fought against each other at the Trident instead of working together. Still, their hostility was better than if they found out the truth, any one of the could try and curry favor with Robert by telling him. No, it was safer for them to hate and be ignorant.

Ned stopped moving as he realized his feet had taken him to Riverrun's godswood. The godswood was airy and, by day, bright, its heart tree was a slender weirwood whose face seemed to smile. Even though it was so unlike the godswood of Winterfell, it still felt the most familiar of all places in this keep, and it was to no surprise that he had ended up here. What was a surprise, however, was the man sitting at the base of the weirwood.

"Jaime." He said, making his presence known. The Lannister sat leaning against the weirwood, a keg sat beside him and he held a wineskin in his hand.

"Lord Stark," Jaime raised his golden head, "and little Jon." He added noticing the bundle Ned carried. "What brings you to my corner of the woods?"

"Familiarity." Ned said simply as he sat down beside him, adjusting Jon in his arms.

"Ah, so the wife's furious then." Jaime laughed and offered him the wineskin. Ned glared at him for a second before accepting. The wine was strong and dry.

"I can imagine. If Cers...she had been in this situation...ah, what am I doing? I'm too drunk, speaking nonsense."

"You had someone then." Kingsguard were not permitted to have wives but not all honored those vows and Jaime was a young man and all young men had urges. 'Young man,' Ned thought 'I'm only slightly older than he is.' But war had changed him, and he suspected it had changed the young Lannister as well. "Is she dead?" Ned asked turning his mind back to the conversation at hand.

"No not dead, but lost to me regardless." So, married or promised to another then. Perhaps when they arrived in the North he could arrange for Jaime to meet some of the noble ladies, mayhaps one could ease the pain of this mystery woman, while also tying Jaime to the North.

"Why are you out here drinking alone?" Ned asked steering the conversation into safer waters.

"Because my father's a bastard." Jaime spoke, handing him a letter.

Ned quickly read through it, eyes growing wide at the implications. "He moves quickly, but to completely disinherit you." This was a bold move, to disinherit the heir to Casterly Rock who was a hero besides.

"I expected no less after I broke with him so clearly, but I do not know what exactly to do with the freedom." Jaime said, emptying the wineskin, and quickly refilling it.

"You are welcome to stay at Winterfell until you decide, and, as I have said before, the North needs men like you, Ser Jaime."

He certainly had ideas on where to set the young Lannister up. He had plans for making the North able to withstand any threat that may challenge it. For one, Moat Cailin would have to be rebuilt and strengthened as the foremost defense against the South. Gods forbid Robert found out about Jon...a seaport and strengthening of the North's western coast would be good ideas. If Robert decided to attack the North his Lannister allies could easily come by ship. And something would have to be done with the Gift. As the Night's Watch grew weaker, wilding attacks became more frequent. A bolstering of the most northern North would be good.

"Hmm, there's a thought. The Lannisters of the North, my father would hate that." That thought seemed to cheer Jaime immensely. "Let's drink to that: to lost loves, angry wives, and sticking to my father." He drank and offered the wineskin to Ned again.

"Aye let's drink to that."

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The road to Winterfell was long, so Lord Eddard made good use of the time analyzing his plans for the North. He had decided upon creating harbors and keeps along the western shore of the North to try and deter any invasion from that direction, as well as a rebuilding the fleet that had been destroyed by Brandon the Burner. He also had developed the idea of creating a guard that could defend against bandit attacks and any southern invasion, he would station them at Moat Cailin as it was being rebuilt. Now he would need someone he could trust to help implement these projects. He had already considered the Mormonts an obvious decision for the task of rebuilding the Northern navy, and he thought he knew someone he could trust to lead the guard he was trying to form.

Of course the finalization of his plans was not his most pressing issue. No, Catelyn was still cross with him for bringing Jon with him to Riverrun.

' _As she well should be,'_ Eddard thought. ' _I am asking her to accept a bastard in her house.'_

Sometimes Eddard wanted nothing more than to confess to her Jon's true identity, but he knew it would be safer for Catelyn and Jon if only himself and Howland knew.

Of course the fact that he had to discuss various things with the Northern lords during the march did not help matters. He had no time to speak with her during the day and she spoke only sparingly to him when they camped at night.

' _She must feel as though I have forgotten her already,'_ Ned thought. ' _I must do more to make her feel welcome when we reach Winterfell. I am not Brandon, but mayhaps she will come to love me just the same.'_

She was a beauty, Ned would admit that. Her lovely red hair and those beautiful blue eyes, the same hair and eyes that she had passed on to their son, were two of the most attractive sights he had ever laid eyes on, and her figure was still beautiful despite birthing her first child.

' _Our first of many,'_ Eddard hoped fervently.

But that thought brought him full circle again, for to ever reach the many children he hoped for, Ned knew he must make her more comfortable with him. He would try to speak with her more on the rest of the march to Winterfell, yes that would be a start. And he would need to do something to make Winterfell more like home to her. Mayhaps a sept? He could have one built in Winterfell. The Crown had given him more money than was needed for reparations, he would more than enough to build a sept and complete the projects he had in mind. With that decided Lord Stark rode on, a small smile tugging at his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

**I will apologize in advance for this chapter as it was not one of my best. The crazy twist and turns of life decided to wreak havoc on my writing schedule.**

 **First a snake bite that turned into an all night hospital stay, then a car wreck that followed the day I got out. This has just not been my week. But enough of my whining on to the story.**

 **Edit: Line breaks are now added in appropriate places.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S.**

Chapter 6: Robert I

Though the war was won and Robert secure on his throne, his mood seemed only to worsen as time dragged on. For King Robert was no administrator and now that the fighting was over governing was all that was left. And there was much to do, first and foremost there were the appointments to his small council which he needed to finalize. Despite the best efforts of Tywin Lannister, his Hand was to be Jon Arryn, who was like a second father to the King. But the Lannisters help in ruling was invaluable, as Tywin was the man who had helped Robert make the decisions for the few council members he had now, as such his brother, Kevan Lannister, was to be appointed Master of Coin. For it was well known Tywin would not accept any station less than Hand of the King. He had also been grudgingly convinced by Lord Tywin that he should pardon Varys and leave him his spot on the council. The Citadel had elected to leave Pycelle as Grand Maester. That left him with three open council positions and a great thirst for wine. As he walked towards the kitchen to find a pitcher of Arbor Gold, he thought of one of the empty council positions and the headache that accompanied it.

Robert also had to replace all seven of the Kingsguard for only one of the previous members had survived the war and he now rode north in the company of the naive, thick skulled, Northerner he had once called brother. Lord Tywin had recommended his brother Tygett, who was certainly skilled with a sword and he could lead men fairly well. Robert had been thinking of naming him Lord Commander. And Robert also had considered naming Lyn Corbray and Dennis of Silverbrook, a second son of a minor lord from the Vale who Robert had gotten to know during his time as Jon Arryn's ward and a hedge knight from the Riverlands respectively, as both of them had fought on his side in the war and each had slain a member of Aerys's Kingsguard. But the other appointments still seemed a mystery to him.

' _Gods how I hate ruling_ ' Robert thought taking a rather large drink of his newly acquired Arbor Gold, ' _this was to be Lyanna's job._ '

Lyanna. Robert had fought the entire war just to get her back, only to find she had died in that damned tower in that fucking desert that was Dorne because of that damned Rhaegar.

' _I'll kill all of those damn dragonspawn for that_ ,' He silently raged.

And to top off the insult, his brother Stannis had failed to capture the remaining Targaryen whelps before they fled Dragonstone. Perhaps he could use some of the Lannister's gold to hire a faceless man that could finish the dragonspawn, yes this seemed to be a solid plan. Besides if he was going to have to marry Cersei, then his new goodfather could help bear the price for securing his throne.

That line of thinking led to another headache and the opening of another bottle of wine, this one a fine white wine from Lys. In less than a week Cersei would arrive alongside most of the court. Robert would have to make arrangements for their arrival, as well as feasts and entertainment prior to the wedding. He would also have to approach the High Sept on on the matter of his coronation, hopefully it could be held just before the wedding when most of the lords would be in attendance. Mayhaps, he could plan a tourney for the wedding to give himself at least some reward for the countless hours of boredom he would have to endure in preparation for the wedding.

All of this planning for the future left King Robert with a large head ache and only one sure decision. He would need more wine.

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"In the sight of both the gods and men, I name you King Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

The High Septon's words rang through Robert's mind again hours later. Robert had knelt waiting for the High Septon to place them crown upon his head. The crown was a beautiful thing, fit for even the most extravagant king. It was a golden circle adorned with onyx points wrought to look like a stag's antlers. His future goodfather had it made as an early wedding gift. As soon as it had touched his head the bells in each of the seven crystal towers had begun to ring.

' _No more chance to escape now,'_ Robert thought. ' _They've crowned me. I'm stuck with the task of running this fucking kingdom for good or ill.'_

King Robert shook his head to try and clear his head and turn his attention back to the matter at hand. Jon Arryn was currently attempting to educate him in the matters of administration, or, more specifically, finishing his small council.

"Have you considered choosing a Master of Laws, Your Grace?"

"Damn it Jon, don't start that 'Your Grace' business with, call me Robert. As for your question of course I have considered it, but I have yet to come up with a suitable answer."

"Well, if I may be so bold, I recommend Lord Tarly for the office."

" _Lord Tarly_?! Have you forgotten Randyll Tarly led Mace Tyrell's van against me at Ashford! Why in the Seven Hells would I ever allow that bastard to sit on the small council?! He fought for the dragonspawn!" Robert slammed his fist on the large oak desk that occupied most of his solar.

"For the same reason you spared Lords Grandison, Cafferen, and Fell when they all rose against you. He is a powerful lord, Robert. You have a talent for turning hated enemies into loyal friends. You must continue to do this or your throne will never be secure. And what better way to make a friend than to give him a spot on the small council, where you have your most trusted advisers?" Robert did have to concede that Jon had a point, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

Fine, I'll place him on the bloody council if it means that damn much to you. Now is there any thing else that you need or are we finally fucking done with this shit.?"

"Only one more thing and then I will leave you to you peace. Please tell me that this plan to have Stannis be Lord of Dragonstone while Renly replaces him as Lord of Storm's End is some poorly thought out jest."

"It is no jest, Jon. I need a strong shield from the Targaryens, should they return."

' _The Targaryens he failed to catch at Dragonstone,'_ Robert silently lamented.

"Return? You had Rhaella's children killed, Robert." Jon's brow furrowed, "Varys reported the assassin's success last night. There are no Targaryens left now. Besides it would be a scandal to deny a Stannis what is his by right. A scandal the other lords won't forget."

"But how can you be sure? I didn't hire a faceless man as I had wished, only some sellsword from the streets of Braavos." Robert's faced hardened, before falling into a sigh, "But you are right Jon. The lords would not forget if I passed over my brother's claim. You have swayed me, I will award Stannis his lordship tomorrow. Now I believe it was mentioned that I could have peace after we finished that topic."

"Of course, Robert I will see you tomorrow." Jon's smiled and reached across the desk to pat him on the shoulder before exiting the solar.

Robert was convinced of one thing more certainly than ever after the past week: the Red Keep's wine cellar was in desperate need of expansion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow this chapter is a monster! 1,000 more words than normal, and it wasn't even intentional. This is my favorite chapter so far and not just because it's so long. So I hope you enjoy.**

 **My new cover image was the idea of Supremus85. It is Jamie Lannister's new house banner that will feature later in the story. I want to thank him for his permission to use it.**

 **Now on to the story.**

 **Edit: Line breaks are now added in appropriate places.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S.**

Chapter 7: Rickard II

Rickard smiled as he found himself on a familiar stretch of road two days after leaving camp. He had traveled north with Lord Wull's forces, the same ones he had fought with throughout the war. After saying goodbye to Theron and Kean at the camp just outside of Winterfell, he had headed west into the Wolfswood toward his home. He paused once again to the crudely drawn map he had received from Kean, who had some rudimentary knowledge of the land, it's lords, and the terrain as his mother was a kitchen wench of House Norrey. He chuckled thinking of all the trouble he would have avoided if he had only had a map in the first place.

Whenever his father had to give a share of their crops to Ironrath for taxes he had taken along Jon, and, once, Wylla, but he had never once brought Rickard along. He had always had an excuse; he needed someone to watch the pigs, someone had to cut wood, or he needed Rickard, who was by far the best hunter in the family, to kill something to help stock the food stores. The excuses had always seemed strange, as Jon could have stayed behind and done any of those things, but Rickard was not one to question his father and he cared little for going to Ironrath anyway. So, when his family gathered to see him off, after deciding he could not be swayed from fighting, and promptly forgot to mention the direction he needed to travel to reach Ironrath, he became lost in the Wolfswood searching for any sign of a castle or an army. After three days of wandering and searching, he finally found what he had believed was Lord Forrester's host. Instead he had found Lord Wull's forces just north of Winterfell.

' _At least I met Theron, Byrron, and Kean,'_ Rickard grinned. ' _If it wasn't for that bloody fool Theron, I'd be dead. Then again being dead might have been better than having to pay for Theron's ale when we reached King's Landing. Fucker almost took all of the stags I made plating dice the night before. And if it weren't for Kean and Byrron I wouldn't have had any of that coin to begin with.'_

In truth he bore a friendly love for them, for Theron had saved his life during the war, while Kean and Byrron had helped him navigate through life at camp. Theron had used his greataxe to remove the head of a Targaryen man-at-arms that snuck up behind him at the Battle of the Bells. The loyalist had appeared suddenly and Rickard only avoided because of a turn he had made while fighting another loyalist. The blade still left a vicious wound on his sword arm, which made it weak for the rest of the fight and required treatment afterwards. Of course there would not have been an afterwards if Theron had not used his shoulder to knock the man to the ground and promptly use his axe to shorten him by a head. After that Theron took it in his own hands to teach Rickard to fight. He had learned quickly, as he seemed to posses a natural talent for fighting from the start. Theron had helped him transition into a soldier, and had always been there for him to lean on.

Whilst Theron had handled teaching him to fight, Byron had taught him all the essentials of life in a military camp. He had taught Rickard where to scrounge up extra food, how to stash his coin and loot taken from the battlefield so that other soldiers would not steal it while he was moving around campus or sleeping at night, how to convince a camp follower that they needed less coin than they asked, he was a handsome man after all, for their services, and, most importantly, how to play dice, and how to ensure he won when he most needed extra coin. While his brother, Kean taught him the more mundane things about camp, how to polish armor and weapons, how to sharpen his axe and arrows, and not to feel squeamish when looting the dead. And they were both quick to laugh and joke, no matter the circumstances. Just thinking about all the fun they had made him miss them despite his joy at returning home.

Rickard was almost home now, at least according to the map. He stopped for a second when the acrid tang of smoke filled his nose. He looked up and saw smoke billowing above the trees in the direction his family's home lay.

' _That's odd,'_ He thought to himself. ' _Why would father start a fire today. It's fairly warm.'_

Even as he thought on it he began to feel as if he had dropped a large stone into his gut. He hurried onward into the trees trying to reach the house quickly, while desperately praying that everything was fine and that mother or Wylla had only gotten chilly and needed a fire. It felt as if he had run for leagues before Rickard bursted through the trees in front of his home, and the sight that greeted him was grim.

The clearing where his home had stood looked like a scene from the war. The house had been reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoldering timbers and the family's pigs were butchered, their ghastly corpses littering the ground. However it was his family that shocked him the most. He saw his father first. He laid on the ground with blood pooled around him. A wound from a sword glistened whenever the blood catching the sun just right. His body was somewhat fresh, for, although the blood was drying his body had not yet bloated or started to rot. Rickard fought back his tears as he closed his father's eyes.

"I'll kill the bastards who did this, father. I promise they'll see justice on my blade." Rickard's face set in a grim line as he vowed vengeance on the unknown perpetrators.

He had heard talk of bandits during the march north but had given it little thought at the time. Now, he would hunt the group that raided in the Wolfswood, multiple groups they were here, and he would not stop until every last one lay dead at his feet.

"Ric-*cough* Rickard, is that you?" A weak voice shook Rickard free from his thoughts of vengeance. He turned and saw Jon propped up against what had been a cart before the fire.

"Jon, you're alive!" Even as Rickard said that he knew it was a generous statement. As he moved closer he saw that his brother was covered in blood, most likely his own, and possessed multiple wounds, including a hole through his gut. The fact that he was alive was nothing short of a miracle.

"Not fer much longer I'm 'fraid," Jon tried to give him a smile, though it looked more like grimace, before his face turned sad. "They killed Father before I could stop 'em. Course, when I did try to stop 'em they did all this." He started coughing then before looking towards the side house where both Wylla and their mother lay, both stripped of clothes. "They raped Wylla and Mother before killin' 'em." His gaze turned slowly back to Rickard, "'least you're still alive little brother, it's good one of us survived."

"Who did this Jon? Please tell me who did this to you."

"Bandits, they got real bad after all the lords went south to fight. Some big fucker lead 'em, had a scar 'cross his right eye, brown hair. Be careful little brother, and always remember: We love you." After he said his peace, Jon closed his eyes and passed on.

Rickard didn't bother holding back his tears then. His family was dead. He would have time for vengeance later, for now he would mourn.

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Rickard stood on a hill overlooking the bandit camp. It had taken him some time, but he had finally tracked down the bandits that had killed his family. Now he would take his vengeance.

He unslung his bow from his back and notched an arrow as he prepared for his assault. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he drew the string tight.

' _Just like every other time.'_ He thought recalling how he had dealt with every other group of bandits he had encountered since.

 _Twang. Thump._

He loosed the arrow and it struck true, killing one of the camp's lookouts.

 _Twang. Thump. Twang. Thump._

He shot the lookouts positioned at other points around the camp before setting his bow and quiver down and picking up his shield and drawing his axe.

He slipped down the ridge and moved carefully towards the camp, relying on years of experience moving stealthily through the forest tracking prey. He was fortunate his target, like the other bandits he had killed, was among the bandits that were not smart enough to group together with others. Unlike some groups who numbered twenty or more, his target's, whose name he had learned was Jormun, group had numbered eight before he had shot the three lookouts, and the rest were heavily drunk.

Rickard managed to get within five steps of the one of the bandits before he was seen.

"Edwyle! Behind you!" The one he had gotten closest to started to turn around before Rickard sprinted forward and buried his axe in his head.

Rickard wrenched his axe free of Edwyle's head before turning on the on the man who had noticed him. The man started running as fast as he could. But it wasn't fast enough. Rickard caught him just as he went to turn a corner around one of the tents that made up the camp.

Rickard grabbed his shoulder and spun the bandit around to face him. He then used his axe to open the bandit's throat from ear to ear and let the warm blood flow over his axe and his hand. Following that Rickard looked up, searching for other bandits to kill. Only then did he notice his mistake.

When he looked up, Rickard was greeted by the sight of the other three bandits. Jormun was easy to pick out among the three for he stood a head above the two and was as broad as the both of them standing shoulder to shoulder. The smaller two each held a sword while Jormun held at wicked looking knobbed mace. Taking in the sight, Rickard sent a brief prayer to the old gods and then rushed headlong into the trio.

Rickard managed to kill one because of the surprise of his attack, sinking his axe into the bandit's face. But the other two continued to rain down blow after blow on his shield giving him no time to recover or to regain his axe. Despite beginning to tire, Rickard blocked each blow with his shield.

However, his luck eventually ran out. Jormun landed a blow that shattered his shield and sent him flying. He landed hard on his back and realized at once he could not feel his shield arm.

' _Fuckin' broken,'_ Rickard thought, looking at his smashed arm. He had lost his shield after getting clubbed and now the bent and broken arm was clear to view of himself and his attackers.

"Ya' killed a lot of my men, boy. Mayhaps, I'll have a little fun with that arm o' yer's before I kill you, so we'll be even." Jormun's voice sounded like steel grating against rock. Rickard raised his head to meet the bandit leader's eyes, at the same time he drew his dagger from his belt. If Jormun was going to kill him, Rickard would at least put up a fight. "Oh, look the boy's got a toothpick. You gonna clean my teeth bo-." He was cut off by a yell.

Rickard and both bandits turned their heads toward the sound to see soldiers rushing into the camp. There were five of them moving to separate and surround the bandits. There were three that wore a bear on their surcoats, one of which seemed to be a woman, which meant, if he could remember what Kean taught him as well as he thought he could, they were of House Mormont. The other two were in the colors of House Stark, which Rickard could identify on sight. The Mormont men surrounded the bandit whose name he didn't know, while the Stark men circled Jormun.

Rickard saw them move to kill Jormun and forced himself to stand. No one but he was going to kill that buggering bastard.

Rickard moved swiftly despite being disoriented from the blow that shattered his arm. He pushed past the Stark men before leaping at Jormun.

He used surprise to topple Jormun to the ground and position himself over top of him. "This is for my family, you fucker." Rickard snarled his words before plunging his dagger into Jormun's eye.

When he turned back to the men who had saved his life, he was shocked that recognized one of them. Clothed in a Stark surcoat and plate armor stood the same man who had joined the Stark host all those moons ago. Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Another long chapter because I was feeling this when I wrote it.**

 **I would like to thank everyone for their support, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's.**

Chapter 8: Jaime III

Jaime was ready to return to Winterfell. He and Benjen had been out cleansing the Wolfswood of bandits for close to a month now. They had moved west with their party of fifty men towards Deepwood Motte, stopping at Ironrath and other small keeps along the way. They had met the Mormont party there. Lord Jeor Mormont, accompanied by his son Jorah and his sister Maege, was traveling to Winterfell to discuss plans of a navy on the western coast of the North. Since both parties were bound for the same place it was decided they would accompany each other, bringing the number of soldiers from fifty to one hundred. Jaime had passed the time between battles speaking with the Mormont party and Benjen.

He had bonded well with Benjen, or Ben as he was called by close friends, throughout the trip, becoming someone he could trust with anything. Jaime had told Ben of his conflicted honor following the events in King's Landing. In turn, Ben had shared his story of the events that had transpired upon the Stark host's return to Winterfell. Benjen had originally planned to join the Night's Watch out of grief. He had blamed himself for Lyanna's disappearance. Jaime still did not understand why he thought he was at fault for Rhaegar's kidnapping of his sister, unless the stories whispered in the far corners of Winterfell about Lyanna leaving by choice held more truth than he had originally believed. Regardless, his plan never came to fruition as Lord Stark was able to talk his brother into staying at Winterfell. Lord Stark also announced his plans to create a guard to help keep the North free of banditry and to appoint Benjen as the captain of that guard. Ben had told Jaime that Lord Stark had decided to grant Moat Cailin to his younger brother for his family's seat and that the guard would be stationed there, at least until a more permanent headquarters could be established. He had also told Ben the price of Moat Cailin, he would have to marry. Apparently Benjen and Lord Stark had already made a match, but Ben refused to tell his friend.

"It will be a surprise," Ben always said. "I would hate to spoil it."

Another interesting partner for conversation was Lady Maege. Her nephew and brother would speak with him, but it was Maege who truly interested him. She wielded a mace better than any man Jaime had met, and wore chainmail regularly if her family was to be believed. Yet, at the same time she had a beauty about her, not the beauty possessed by most noble ladies but a beauty all the same. Jaime would admit he was attracted to her. She was wild and blunt with her words, unlike any woman he had met before.

' _Completely unlike Cersei.'_ Jaime thought and grimaced.

Cersei was a still unhealed wound. She and his brother Tyrion were the only parts of the South he missed. But he knew Cersei was lost to him, Tyrion may come North later on but Cersei was married to Robert Baratheon. Besides he needed to forget what he did with Cersei, it had been wrong to begin with and now that he there was distance between them he had resolved to leave it in the past.

' _Yes,'_ His gaze turned to Maege. ' _Mayhaps it is time to move on.'_

He put aside those thoughts, however, as his eyes traveled to the newest member of their party. A boy of six and ten who had been fighting bandits when they found him.

' _And doing a good job of it too, it seemed.'_ True, when they found the boy he had been in a difficult spot, but Jaime remembered the bodies of six bandits that had been killed before they had arrived. He also remembered how, despite having a broken arm, the boy, Rickard, had pushed between himself and Ben to leap at the leader of the bandits and sunk his dagger into the leader's eye.

The boy had told them the story of what happened to his family and Jaime had watched as his long face sadden and those grey eyes fill with tears that he refused to let fall. That was a peculiar thing about the boy, he looked uncannily like Ben and Lord Stark except he was taller and more well built. Another oddity was how he sat in the saddle as if he was born there despite claiming that he had never rode a horse before. But Jaime had other thoughts about Rickard that had nothing to do with the boy's oddities.

' _The poor boy's lost all he had in this world,'_ Jaime had thought when they found him. Since then an idea had started to form in his mind. Now, five days later, was ready to act on it.

"Rickard, may I have a word with you?" Rickard jumped at the sound of his voice, jostling his broken arm in his sling and causing a grimace. "We will need to get that looked at when we reach Winterfell." Jaime's words were more to himself than Rickard but the boy still heard them.

"It's nothing m'lord, just sore. What did you need from me m'lord?"

"That arm is more than just sore. But I have something else to discuss. You fight well and you seem well mannered. I would take you as my squire, if you are interested."

"A squire m'lord, I'd be honored. But, if I may ask m'lord, why me?"

"As I said you fight well and are well mannered, you are also of the North and know the way of things up here. That will be invaluable once I construct a keep." Lord Stark had been offering him land since he had arrived and, after talking to Ben he had a feeling he knew just where he wanted to set up. "I take it that was a yes?"

"Of course m'lord." The boy smiled then, a contagious thing that had Jaime smiling back before he had even realized it.

Jaime opened his mouth to say more but shouts from the front of the party told him that they had finally arrived at Winterfell. When Jaime turned however his mouth fell open in shock. Flying high above Winterfell was a sun run through by a spear, the banner of House Martell. He turned to Benjen only to find his mouth turned up in a small grin.

' _Surprise indeed.'_

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Winterfell had been bustling ever since the arrival of the Dornish. There had been a feast the night Jaime's party had returned from hunting bandits. For days after the feast Lord Stark and Prince Doran Martell had been locked away in Lord Stark's solar, sometimes joined by Ben, Prince Oberyn Martell, or Princess Obara Martell, Oberyn's bastard daughter who had been legitimized as part of the concessions by the Crown to Dorne for peace. During that time Jaime made sure Rickard saw the maester about his arm.

"It will heal. It will take quite a while for their bone to knit back together after being broken this badly, but in two or three moons it should be fully healed." Maester Luwin had said as he made a splint for Rickard's arm, ignoring the boy's winces and grimaces, "Of course that means you are not to use it until it is healed or you risk it never healing at all. There I'm finished, the splint should help it heal in a straight line, so do remember to wear it."

"I'm sorry Lord Jaime, I know you don't have any use for a crippled squire." Rickard was the first to speak once they had left the maester's turret.

"Nonsense, you're not crippled lad, that arm will be healed before you know it. Besides, being a squire is more than learning to fight."

"You'll still have me as your squire then, m'lord ?" Rickard's eyes were hopeful and it tore at Jaime's heart once again to think of all the pain he had been through at so young an age.

"Aye, of course I took you as my squire, that isn't going to change just because you can't spar for a few moons."

Since then the boy had excelled in everything asked of him. He had begun learning to read under Maester Luwin's tutelage, he polished Jaime's sword and armor daily and brought Jaime's meals to his chambers promptly each day. Jaime had convinced him to bring a second plate and share a meal with him each evening, a practice which he hoped would become standard for every meal soon. They discussed several things during those meals: Rickard's family, Jaime's years in the Kingsguard, their views of the war, and the failed and successful assassination attempts of the Targaryen children. During those talks Jaime was impressed with his young squire, for he had been hardened from the war yet retained a sense of honor and honesty. He had even gotten the boy to drop the m'lord's _,_ though Ser Jaime was as far as the boy was willing to go. In all honesty he knew he had found a good squire, one who would not shirk any of his duties.

However, his squire was not the only thing that occupied his mind. He had meant to speak with Lord Stark about establishing a keep when he returned from bandit hunting. Jaime had a good idea of where he wished to be set up but he had been unable to speak with Lord Stark since the Dornish had arrived.

' _Mayhaps I will have a chance after the feast tonight.'_

The feast was lively to say the least. By the fourth course many of the Stark bannermen were drunk and in good spirits. Greatjon Umber had started telling loudly of his exploits at the Battle of the Trident, which were greatly exaggerated if one believed Galbart Glover. Rickard Karstark was cheerfully joining in on the chorus of "the Bear and the Maiden Fair" which had started at one of the lower tables reserved for the men-at-arms and others who were not nobles but had accompanied their lords. Only Jeor Mormont, who was sitting near Jaime, and Roose Bolton had not taken part in the festivities. Jeor had talked politely with Jaime, hardly touching the Dornish red that sat in front of him. Roose had only sat back and regarded the room with his cold eyes.

It was during the sixth and final course that Lord Stark stood to make his announcement.

"Lords of the North and Dorne it is my pleasure to inform you that in one moon my brother, Benjen Stark, shall marry Obara Martell daughter of Oberyn Martell. Now I propose a toast to their health and happiness in marriage. To marriage!"

"To marriage!" The cheer echoed loudly around the room.

Jaime had expected this announcement for sometime now, but he still thought it peculiar. The younger brother of Lord Stark married to a legitimized bastard. And a Martell at that, Jaime would have thought they were angry at the Stark's over their role in Robert's Rebellion. It was strange to say the least. But for however much he expected Lord Stark's announcement, he did not expect what happened next.

Following the announcement of marriage, the dessert, strawberry pie accompanied by lemon cakes and a sweet custard, was cleared away and the tables moved away to give room for dancing. The bards having heard the awful but earnest rendition of "the Bear and the Maiden Fair " decided to grace the crowd with a decent version of the piece. No sooner than the song had started, a drunk Maege Mormont appeared beside him asking for a dance.

"You know, Little Lion, I am the bear around here." Maege had begun calling him Little Lion not long after they had met at Deepwood Motte.

"Oh, so I guess I am the maiden fair then, Mace Wench?" Jamie had given her that name after watching her bash a bandit's head in with her mace.

"I do not know about a maiden, but you are certainly fair." Maege's eyes held a gleam in them that had Jaime smiling widely. He was glad he had accepted Lord Stark's offer to journey north. He was happy here, more happy than he had ever been back home.

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The next morning, Jaime finally found time to speak with Lord Stark about the lands he wished to settle.

"Lord Stark," he greeted as he strode into Lord Stark's solar. "I believe I have finally decided to take your offer of land."

"Oh, I assume you have found somewhere suitable then?" Lord Stark took a map from a shelf. "If you would please point it out on here."

Jaime obliged, pointing to a place a little north of Winterfell, on the east side of the northern mountains, yet just west of the King's Road. It sat in a forest at the foothills of the mountains, across the King's Road sat Long Lake.

"I believe there are ruins there that could be used for the start of your keep." Lord Stark nodded before turning to look at him. "If I may ask what motivated you to chose this place?"

Jaime pointed to the mountains then. "In the foothills here, there should be something of value to mine. Also there are ample forests so we shall have food in case of a hard winter."

"Very well, I, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North, grant these lands," Lord Stark gestured to the forest that lay between the mountains and the King's Road, "to Lord Jaime of House Lannister and his descendants from this day until the end of days."

' _That's it, I'm a lord in truth now. And I never needed your help Father. '_

 **Now I know everyone is going to question the Obara/Benjen marriage, but it will be explored later, and it is supposed to be strange.**

 **Also I know that Jaime is only three years older than Rickard but right now he sees him as more of a boy than man (hence why he calls him boy), as time goes on and they get to know each other that will change.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Another Sunday, Another Chapter. I have some actual announcements for the author notes of this one so bear with me.**

 **First, Length. The Length of chapters has been increased to around 2,000 words per chapter.**

 **Second, Schedule: My schedule will still be that I attempt to upload on Sunday with Tuesday as my backup day. But I must ask that with the increase in words per chapter that you please refrain from lynching me if I am late.**

 **Third, Tywin/Ashara: Okay, I admit it, the Tywin and Ashara marriage was stupid. So in light of that the chapter has been amended. Tywin now marries Melesa Crakehall. Chapter 2 should have been changed by the time you are reading this.** **THIS IS THE ONLY CHANGE.**

 **Fourth, Reviews: I have had real life things that have kept me from responding to reviews. I sincerely apologize and I hope to rectify the situation soon. I will go ahead and thank all of you for your support. Also I would like for the ones of you that have told me of your concerns to know that they are noted and will be taken into consideration.**

 **Now on to the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S.**

Chapter : Cersei I

Cersei scowled at the roast duck in front of her, but ate it all the same. She knew she must eat if she was to carry the child to term.

 _Her child_. It was a bittersweet thought. She had always wanted to be a mother, but she had imagined the child to be Jaime's or, at one time, Rhaegar's. Certainly not Robert Baratheon's. Cersei despised that man. She had once thought that their marriage could be a happy one, but that dream had died on their wedding day. Robert had called her Lyanna when he had finished, and that angered Cersei immensely.

' _How dare he think of that Northern whore while in bed with me.'_ She silently fumed. She had begun to hate Robert then. Cersei hated him enough that she had that she had thought of drinking moon tea when she had found that she was pregnant. Only one thing had stayed here hand.

Power. She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and that brought with it a degree of power. But, as queen she was also expected to bring forth the King's heir. Bearing Robert a son was the only way to ensure that she would retain her position, and the influence that accompanied it. But, despite the boy's father, she would ensure he was more lion than stag, for she would not allow another Robert to sit the Iron Throne.

Of course none of this would be a problem if it were not for the absence of her sweet Jaime. Cersei had arrived in the capital expecting to be greeted by the warm embrace of her brother and lover, but instead she had found he was no longer in the capital. She had immediately confronted her father over the matter, to which Tywin responded by telling her of Jaime's betrayal. At first, Cersei refused to believe that her beautiful, sweet Jaime would willingly leave her to travel North with Stark and the other uncouth barbarians that lived there, but as time drug on without him she came to realize that the stories whispered by the servants in the keep were true, Jaime had willingly left King's Landing. She had also heard rumors of him arguing with their father only a few days before his self-imposed exile. Cersei had no doubt that Tywin had said something that had made Jaime believe he must leave. For that Cersei cursed her father as well as her brother for his absence. If only he were here, then her child could be his as well, as she had often dreamed. For now, she would have to suffer the birth of Robert's child in order to secure her power, but when she had that power she would order Jaime home to her.

"Lady Baratheon, the King asks that you visit him in his solar when you are finished eating." Ser Dennis had appeared alongside her without attracting her notice. He was a plain man being clean shaven and possessing a plain face and unremarkable figure. He stood of an average height and he was no more or less muscular than the average man-at-arms in the King's employ. His only distinguishing feature was a scar upon his cheek, which he had acquired in his fateful duel with Ser Jonothor Darry during the Battle of the Trident. If it were not for that scar and his white cloak and armor, Dennis could pass as a servant or member of the smallfolk with little difficulty. Despite his unremarkable appearance, however, Dennis was a formidable warrior. Immediately after being knighted as a member of the Kingsguard, he participated in the melee that had been arranged for the royal wedding. During the melee, he felled many great swordsmen, her uncle and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Tygett Lannister among them, to prove that he truly earned his white cloak.

Cersei slid the tiny portion of roast duck she didn't eat away from her. "I am finished now. So let us not keep His Grace waiting." With that she stood and began the walk to Robert's solar, Ser Dennis keeping pace beside her.

When they reached their destination, Dennis took a position by the door while Cersei entered the room. Inside, Robert was bent over some papers urgently discussing some matter or another with his Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. She could only here snippets of the discussion, but she listened as intently as she could.

"This is worse than we thought, Jon." The King looked distraught over something or other.

"We shouldn't make any hasty conclusions, Your Grace. Banditry rose considerably in the Vale while we were fighting the war, mayhaps that is the reason for the creation of this guard. The North is as big as the rest of Westeros taken together after all." Jon's voice was always the one of reason.

' _So, something is happening in the North. If I listen maybe I will hear something about Jaime.'_

"A guard, Jon? This is a buggering army! And he has been giving land and keeps to Targaryen supporters! It seems as if he is preparing for open rebellion."

"Your Grace, this is Ned we are talking about. If he says he is building a guard, then he is building a guard, and his gift of land to Jaime Lannister is old news. Lion's Den has been built for sometime now, and Jaime Lannister has done nothing treasonous at any point."

' _Jaime is a lord now? How did I not hear of this sooner?'_

"What of Malcolm Branfield? He fought against us in the war, yet Ned grants him a keep in the North!"

"From what I understand, Your Grace, Malcolm Branfield distinguished himself while fighting bandits and was given a keep as a reward, that is hardly treasonous. But I have a plan that could put your mind at ease, we shall send a knight to assess the situation and report as to whether any treasonous activities are taking place."

"I assume you have someone in mind then?"

"Yes, I believe my new Knight of the Gate would be able to handle this job with ease, especially if accompanied by his ward."

"Brynden Tully and Tyrion Lannister? Do you not think that the uncle of Catelyn Stark and the brother of Jaime Lannister maybe partial?"

"No, Your Grace, I believe Ser Brynden is loyal to me. It would also be the perfect cover for their trip, they are just two men traveling north to visit family."

"I suppose that could ease my mind some. See it done soon." Robert looked up then and noticed her for the first time. "It seems my lady wife has arrived. If you will excuse us." Jon's bowed gracefully before leaving Cersei and Robert alone in his solar.

"What is it you wished to speak with me about, Your Grace?" Cersei said sweetly, hoping he would assume she had just arrived.

Robert scowled for a moment before answering. "I have decided that Ser Dennis be assigned as your sworn shield to guarantee your protection at all times. You are never to go anywhere without him. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, You Grace."

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Rain battered the walls of the Red Keep relentlessly. The Blackwater had long since flooded and no man with any sense in his head would be caught outside in this storm. Lightning tore through the skies constantly , one following the next. Thunder boomed throughout King's Landing, being strong enough to sometimes shake the glass windows of the Red Keep. The wind howled like a demon from the Seven Hells that had come looking for a soul to claim.

Throughout all of this Cersei sat stitching a golden lion into a crimson cloth. She was absorbed in her work, making sure each stitch was perfect or she would have to begin a new. She paused briefly every so often to speak with her constant companion, Ser Dennis. She was bored just as she had been for the past week since they had moved her into the birthing chambers. Cersei decided then to learn more of the white cloak which had been assigned to her.

"If I may ask Ser Dennis, where are you from?" Cersei did not care for his answer, she spoke only to hear a sound aside from the storm raging outside.

"Silverbrook, Your Grace. It is a small village on the border of the Riverlands and Crownlands. The lands belong to House Mooton. I was born there, the son of a carpenter and a local healer."

"Very interesting." Cersei lied. "I must ask then Ser Dennis, how did you become a knight?"

"Well, Your Grace, when I was but one and ten a hedge knight by the name of Ser Daimon stopped briefly in Silverbrook on his way south to Rosby. I begged him for hours on end to take me as a squire, becoming forlorn when he told me he had no use for a squire. My father was pleased, for he wished me to stay and learn his trade and stay far from battles and war. My mother, on the other hand wished me to follow my dreams and become a knight. As such when Ser Daimon rode back into town after being badly injured by bandits, my mother's price for healing him was to take me as a squire. After a good number of years he knighted me at the Battle of the Bells. Then we rode side by side in the Battle of the Trident, until Jonothor Darry slew Ser Daimon and I slew Ser Jonothor."

"Ah, that is an inter-aargh!" Cersei was cut off by a sharp sudden pain in her abdomen and the feeling of something wet trickling between her thighs.

"Your Grace, are you okay?" She barely heard Ser Dennis above her own pain.

"Do I look okay, you bloody fool?! Don't just fucking stand there go fetch the maester."

Cersei could barely see as he sprinted out the door in search of Maester Pycelle. She was in excruciating pain. She did not know if she would last until Pycelle arrived.

' _Is this how it is supposed to feel?'_ Cersei asked herself. ' _Surely not, something must have gone wrong. Will I survive? Oh by the Seven, let me please survive this.'_

Cersei didn't know exactly when Pycelle arrived only that he did. He was accompanied by midwives to help assist in the process. She felt someone lay a wet rag on her forehead and she heard the maester's voice. "You need to push, Your Grace." And push she did.

Twelve hours later a squalling babe was brought into the world during the heart of the fiercest storm to ever strike King's Landing.

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When Cersei awoke it was midday. She had fallen asleep immediately after giving birth to her babe. She lifted her head looking to see if she could spot her young son.

"Rest, Your Grace. You need to save your strength." Pycelle stood nearby the bed.

"My son, where is he?"

"He is with the wet nurse, Your Grace, I will have her bring him to you." Pycelle responded before doing exactly that.

The wet nurse appeared then holding her son. As Cersei reached out to take him, she noticed his tufts black hair, an obvious Baratheon trait. He was a large child, much larger than the other babes she had seen. When she shifted him in her arms to better support him, he opened his eyes. She stared down at his large blue orbs with wonder. Then he started screaming.

' _He is a Baratheon through and through.'_

"Has he been named, yet?" Cersei asked the wet nurse. She fervently hoped the answer would be no. She already had a name in mind, she would call him Joffery. She smiled at the thought.

"Yes, Your Grace." Cersei felt her smile falter then. The King has named him Orys."

 **Alright I know I'm going to catch flak for this chapter. In this story Cersei's love for power beats her hate for Robert. She sees that bearing Robert's child would boost her standing in court. I know that in canon she drunk moon tea to keep from having Robert's child, but now without Jaime to turn to she brings the child to term.**

 **Her feelings for Jaime are mixed. She is angry with him for leaving, yet she believes it is mostly because of Tywin that he left. She also believes that if she can convince Jaime to return to King's Landing that they can fix their relationship. Which is a factor in her desire for power as she thinks that she will be able to order him home.**

 **So, I hope I didn't flub that chapter too bad in y'all's eyes, and I hope you will share your thoughts on it with me.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the late update guys. A sinus infection is kicking my butt right now.**

 **I hope you can forgive me that this chapter is a little shorter than 2,000 words. I have had a lot of trouble writing this chapter and I am still not completely happy with the result.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC'S**

Chapter 10: Catelyn I

The North was changing. Catelyn hadn't been there long and even she could see it. Benjen's marriage to Obara Martell has brought increased southern connections. On top of that, Jaime Lannister's gold and gems were bringing more merchants North than ever before. With the merchants came smallfolk who saw an opportunity to make a living working in the newly prosperous North.

After Jaime's success the Umbers, as well as many of the mountain clans, determined they would not be outdone. The Umbers opened mines in the hills that surrounded Last Hearth, while the mountain clans opened mines in the same mountains as Lord Lannister. Lord Umber had met with less success, finding only iron and bronze in his hills. They mountain clans however had found more gold and gems. Because off this discovery they began to do something they had never done before. They began to settle. Not all off them and not all at once. Slowly and with a great many smallfolk moving to their mines in their mountains, towns were built. Some of the clansmen settled in these towns, a great many, however, refused to give up their lifestyle of tending to their vast herds of sheep in the mountains. The increase in this mines helped the North's trade flourish.

Another of the great changes to the North was the Winterguard. The Winterguard, known also as grey cloaks, had greatly decreased banditry in the North. They had also helped build a connection of roads running throughout the North. These roads had small holds, often no bigger than a single tower, that were used to ward off bandits that believed merchants on the road made easy pickings. In exchange for their services tolls were collected at some these holds, these funds were then used to help keep the Winterguard operational. The roads and their protectors also drew merchants to the North, as they knew they were safe when traveling from one town to the next.

A more astonishing change to the North was the influx of nobles from the south. Second sons, bastards, and unlanded knights had flocked to Winterfell and other courts throughout the North in hopes of impressing a lord and earning a grant of land for themselves. This hope was founded on their fact that both Jaime Lannister and Malcolm Branfield had been granted land not long after coming north. So far none of them had been granted any land, but, with the way the North had begun to change, Catelyn did not believe it would be long until there would be cadet branches of several southeren houses throughout the North.

The most significant change, at least in Catelyn's mind, was a smaller one. Her husband had built her a sept. He had ordered the sept built not long after they had arrived in the North. She often went there to think, just as Ned always did in the godswood. It had been quieter there originally, but, as nobles from the south flooded the North, it had become a much bigger place. She knew that the place was an attempt by Ned to repair their damaged relations and make her feel more at home inside the castle. In truth it had worked some. She felt more at home now that there was a sept to visit as she had in Riverrun.

' _Not that I would need a sept to feel at home. If only he would remove the bastard, then I would feel perfectly at home.'_ Catelyn could not comprehend why Ned was so insistent on keeping the bastard in Winterfell. ' _He could have been raised by a family of smallfolk. He could have compensated them for their trouble and I would never of had to seen the bastard again.'_

Ned would not even give her the name of the woman he loved more than her. She had asked once and he had not elated her fears.

" _Why could he not stay with his mother." Catelyn had asked not long after arriving at Winterfell. She had been desperate then, searching for any way to rid her self of the stain on both her and her husband's honor._

" _His mother is dead." Ned's face had slipped into a frown then. He obviously had fond memories of the woman._

" _Who was she?" Catelyn had asked then._

 _Ned's face had turned cold and before her then stood not her husband but the Lord of Winterfell. "Jon is my blood that is all you need to know."_

He had allowed no more discussion on the matter since then, but Catelyn could not help but wonder about the woman he had loved enough to dishonor her. Catelyn knew she was not being fair. Ned had treated her well after their marriage, staying faithful to her and being warm and caring towards both herself and their children.

Mayhaps it would not be so hard if the bastard taken after his mother, but, as it was, he was Ned writ small. Even Benjen and Obara's son, Rickard, had the grey eyes, dark hair, and long face that characterized most Starks. On the other hand both Robb and Sansa, her child of only three moons, had the Tully look through and through. This caused the familiar feeling of inadequacy to rear its ugly head.

' _If someone were to see both Robb, Rickard, and Jon when they came to Winterfell, they would think Rickard and the bastard Starks and Robb the bastard.'_ Catelyn distressed over that fact. She worried that if she could not bear a Stark looking child, Ned may have the bastard legitimized as the heir of Winterfell. That her new goodsister was a legitimized bastard only fed this fear.

However, Catelyn knew it would do her no good to lament over the matter. Jon was an inescapable part of Winterfell. Robb had taken to him almost immediately, refusing to be separated from his half-brother, for even a short amount of time. They did everything together, whatever mischief Robb got into the bastard was with him. They played together in the godswood, took their lessons together, and, at Ned's decision, they even shared a chamber. No matter where she turned to see her son, the bastard was there, reminding her that she was only second best.

' _Soon,'_ she decided, ' _I will give him another son. A Stark looking son.'_

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"My lord, the new fleet is coming along well, as is the new keep on Sea Dragon Point, but if we wish to continue these results we will need more gold. We will need more ironwood if we wish to have five ships made of it. You know that my house is a poor one, and the bloody Forresters don't sell ironwood cheap."

Catelyn only half listened as Lord Mormont talked to her lord husband about the defense of the western coast of the North. She had been sick the entire morning. Before she broke her fast, she had been revisited by the evening meal from the night before, becoming ill for most of an hour. Ned had wished for her to stay in her chambers until Maester Luwin could examine her. But after she had been ill, she began to feel slightly better and insisted that she would be well enough to be present when Ned spoke to Lord Mormont that morning. In truth, she had still been nauseous at the time, but she did not feel that it was enough to deter her from attending the meeting. Now, however, she wished she had heeded his advice and stayed in her chambers. Catelyn had decided that as soon as Ned's meeting with Lord Mormont ended she would seek out Maester Luwin. Hopefully he would be able to offer some sort of remedy.

Catelyn tried desperately to hold back a sigh of relief at Lord Mormont's announcement that Ned's solution to offer to pay part of the money needed for the ironwood that would be used to build ships would suffice.

Catelyn turned to Ned once Lord Mormont had left the room. "My lord, if I may, I would go to Maester Luwin and have him examine me."

"Of course Cat, I hope he will have something to help you with this ailment."

After Ned gave her his blessing, Catelyn quickly began her walk to the Maester's turret. As she walked, she thought of what she had remembered during Ned's talk with Lord Mormont. It was a startling fact, something she had failed to notice at the time. Benjen had made a surprise visit and she had been too busy to truly notice. Now she thought herself a fool for ever missing it.

She arrived at the Maester's turret in the shortest amount of time as she ever had. She bunched up her skirts in her hand and began to take the steps two at a time, trying to reach the maester as quickly as she could. She arrived at his door and took only a moment to straighten herself before knocking. Her stomach had become twisted during the rush up stairs and she now felt as if she would vomit immediately. He bade her to enter and she did just that, coming through the door quickly in hopes that the air in his chambers would agree with her stomach more than the air outside.

"Lady Catelyn, I am surprised to see you here, my lady. What can I do for you?" Maester Luwin spoke as she came through the door.

Catelyn fought to settle her stomach as she spoke. I have been feeling unwell recently, maester. I was hoping you could examine me and hopefully offer some opinion as to the cause of and a cure for this illness."

Luwin examined her then, poking and prodding and asking questions. She answered his questions as best she could. She also relayed what she had remembered during the meeting, she had not had her moon's blood this moon. After a short time she received the news she had been dreading and hoping for at the same time.

"Congratulations, Lady Catelyn, you are with child."

 **Yes, I know Arya is born three years later than this. This is one of two not canon children of Ned and Cat that will appear. That is all I will say for now, more will be uncovered later.**


	11. Update

**Update**

 **I have some bad news guys. This story has to go on temporary hiatus. I have recently suffered my fourth concussion and it has affected my ability to write. The story should be off of its hiatus in 2-3 weeks. I sincerely apologize for not being able to bring you more of this story right now, and I hope you have some patience with me. Thank you for taking the time to read this.**

 **Maybe sincerest apologies,**

 **Panthers79**


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